


i'll be there for you (in your darkest nights)

by awkwardacity



Series: Birthday Fics [3]
Category: Supergirl (TV 2015)
Genre: Bonding, Episode: s02e07 The Darkest Place, F/F, Fix-It, Fluff and Angst, Kara is more bitter about Alura than she lets on, Post-Episode: s02e07 The Darkest Place, Pre-Femslash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-05
Updated: 2016-12-05
Packaged: 2018-09-06 17:33:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,603
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8762473
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/awkwardacity/pseuds/awkwardacity
Summary: After her mother's arrest, Lena is in shock. Supergirl and Kara are there to help.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Happy birthday Anna! Hope you like this :)  
> A fix-it fic for the end of episode 7, which we're all still mad about.

There's something sobering about watching her mother being led away in hand cuffs.

It's night, and there are few streetlamps on around the docks at this time, but the metal catches the light of every single damn one of them, throwing their reflections in her face like they're trying to make a point. _How does it feel to be the last Luthor?_

She wants to say it's the best feeling she's ever felt - wants it like she's wanted nothing before, a deep ache throughout the most distant reaches of her heart; and for the most part, it is. But there's that tiny corner of her, so small she's only just discovered it exists, that's screaming inside her chest and head. Because there's nothing worse than hope - it's a weed, unkillable no matter how many times you stamp it down and rip it out. It always flickers back to life.

Until now.

She's long since accepted that Lillian Luthor doesn't comprehend the meaning of _I love you_ \- at least, not when it comes to anyone but Lex - but there was always that small, inexplicable hope that maybe, one day, that might change. That maybe her mother would turn around and say I love you, and she would _mean_ it, because - well, because she was her  _mother_.

Even ice cold killers have meltable hearts.

But her mother isn't just a killer; she's a liar, a torturer, a scientist. Just thinking of the things her mother might have done, _has_ done, makes her feel sick to her stomach. Her skin feels like a smothering layer restricting her breathing, and she just wants it gone, wants to tear it off desperately with blunt fingernails and sharp metal. Because this is the skin of a Luthor, and for once Lena doesn't think she can face up to that reality.

The docks empty slowly of people. First the police, driving away with an almost crazed fervour because _the head of Cadmus is on their back seat_ ; then the agents, slinking back into the shadows like they're invisible.

Lena stays. The agents have packed away and confiscated all that's left of her mother's weapon - there's nothing of any particular interest left to look at - but Lena is frozen. The wind bites into her skin, digging deep into her flesh and chilling her bones; strands of hair are ripped free from her bun, thrashing wildly across her vision, but she barely notices.

There's a patch of crimson on the ground - a wide, deep red which seeps in between the cracks of the concrete. In all the chaos she has no idea who's blood it might be.

"Lena."

A hand rests on her shoulder, an epicentre of warmth that seems to leech through her entire body instantly, and her control snaps. She crumples, caught from hitting the unforgiving ground only by the strong arms holding her up like she's made of nothing more than paper. Her lungs spasm, air catching in her throat every time she breathes, as convulsive sobs choke her, bubbling up past her lips with no chance of control. Her eyes burn, vision blurred to the point that even colours are questionable, and she wants to stop, to reason with herself, to tell herself she doesn't care, but she _does_. Oh god, she does.

Her heart and head ache like they're about to explode, and Lena just wants it to stop - for once. She hasn't stopped in almost thirty years.

"It's okay," the person holding her whispers, so quiet Lena barely catches the words. Somewhere in her jumbled thoughts she realises the arms and voice belong to Supergirl; for a moment her heart stutters, and she desperately tries to rub away her tears. She can't - she _can't_ appear weak in front of the girl of steel.

But her embrace is warmer and softer than anything Lena's imagined, and the comfort they provide is too irresistible. And if anyone understands the weak moments in between strength it has to be a superhero, right?

"Sh, sh, it's okay, Lena." Even her words make Lena relax further. Her sobs are coming in hiccups now, and all that's left of the heartache and anger that have motivated her for so longer is a bone-deep tiredness that tugs at her eyelids like the strongest of forces.

She loses track of time as she drifts in and out of consciousness, lulled back into sleep every time by the gentle rush of wind past her ears. Next thing she knows there's a soft warmth around her, a pillow cushioning her head. She's on the couch in her office, a blanket drawn tight up to her shoulders.

The world is still blurry, but she can make out Supergirl in the sharp relief of her shadow in the open window. She wants to call out to her, to ask her to stay, but her limbs and tongue refuse to listen to her brain, and all that comes out is a feeble groan.

Supergirl glances once more in her direction, and Lena thinks she might be able to make out a sad smile on those alien lips, but she can't be sure. She blinks, and Supergirl is gone.

The world drifts into darkness.

* * *

 

"Lena?"

The knock on the door splits through her dreamless sleep like a crack of lightning. Her eyes and head pound from crying, but there's a lightness in her shoulders she barely remembers feeling before.

"Supergirl?" Lena sits up, looking towards the window - she can hardly dare to hope that the superhero really came back for her. There's no one there.

"Just me, sorry." Lena's head snaps around to the door - the _actual_ door - to look at the origin of the voice, which sounds more apologetic than Lena thinks should be possible.

Kara Danvers stands in the doorway; in this light she looks a lot like Supergirl. But there's a hunch to her shoulders, a curve to her spine, an unsure fluttering to her eyes and body that jars irreconcilably with the sure, confident power the superhero injects into any room with just her presence. Where Kara is flustered, nervous laughter, and adorable blushes that stain her cheeks just so, Supergirl is confidence-inspiring smiles and a gravity that draws any and all towards her.

"Kara," Lena tries desperately for a smile, but it falls flat. Her makeup is no doubt a mess, her clothes rumpled and hair all over the place. She looks a mess, and all she wants to do is burrow into the cushions where no one can find her and sleep for days. "What - what are you doing here?"

"We have a mutual friend," Kara shrugs in that shivering, nervous way of hers - like every movement is tentative and unsure. "She told me you've - uh - had a bad week? So I. Um. I brought pizza?"

As she talks, she waves the cardboard box in her hands. Lena's eyes zero in on the tub of cookie dough ice cream on top; her stomach groans. When was the last time she even ate?

She blinks, eyes flickering between the food and the strange, beautiful girl in her doorway, unsure of quite how to react, because once again she's underestimated the pure goodness that Kara Danvers seems to have been crafted from.

Her lack of answer sends Kara's unsure smile cascading to the floor, replaced by a shaky frown. "If I'm overstepping, it's fine - I'll just-"

"Kara." Lena stands shakily, almost dropping straight to the floor again- Kara's there instinctively, supporting her. She's surprisingly strong for a girl of her stature, and from this angle Lena can see the full definition of Kara's arms through her thin cardigan. _Wow_. Lena could stare for hours at those arms.

She lowers herself back down to the sofa with as much dignity as she can manages, then pats the cushion beside her. "Bad week is an understatement," she offers an almost smile as Kara's face fluctuates between happiness and worry.

"I wasn't sure what kind of pizza you like," Kara sits, her arms waving wildly as she speaks. "So I brought margherita cos - who doesn't love margherita? Everyone loves margherita. I _love_ margherita. I mean, I'm sure there are people who hate margherita, or people who are allergic to cheese, so I guess they don't like it, but- why are you laughing?"

Lena can't help it. Maybe it's the normalcy of the conversation, or just the pure sunshine Kara is made of infecting her, but just listening to her ramble makes the knots in Lena's chest begin to unravel.

"Do you want to watch a movie?" The words spill from her mouth before she can think better of it, but the surprise on Kara's face which gives way quickly to a blinding smile is worth it.

"Sure. Anything in particular?"

Lena's thoughts race as she tries to think. She's been trying to find the courage to ask Kara to watch a movie with her for _weeks_ ; she's never got further in the planning than asking her.

"You choose."

As Kara flicks through the choices on the television opposite the couch, Lena helps herself to pizza. It's still hot, despite the nearest pizza place being a block away and fifty floors down, and Lena wants to moan because pizza has never tasted this good before.

"Found it," Kara turns to her with a decisive smile. She sits back on the couch, feet tucked in beside her. Lena can't help but notice how comfortable, how  _in place_  she looks there.

"What are we watching?" she asks shamelessly through a mouthful of food.

"Sh, you'll find out."

The beginning credits roll on the screen, and Lena can't help the derisive snort that passes her lips. "Star Wars?"

"Star Wars." Kara nods with a grin.

"You know the science of these movies is horrifically inaccurate."

"It's _fiction_ , Lena. It doesn't have to be scientifically accurate."

"Hm."

As the movie starts, Lena settles back into the sofa, allowing the blankets and pillows to swallow her until only her head is poking out. She tries to focus on the movie, she really does, but there are far more interesting things in the room to watch.

In the burnt-orange light of the slowly rising sun, Kara looks like a goddess. Her hair glints, and where it catches the light just right it appears a darker, earthy red that captivates Lena's attention. Her eyes are a steely blue shade Lena has never seen anywhere else. Lena's never had the chance to properly look at Kara - she's never still, a jumble of movement and distraction - but now she can see things in a painful clarity.

There are things people reveal without meaning to, through their body, when they're relaxed. Like the tension held in Kara's frame despite her eased face. The spark in her eyes, deep and bottomless pits, that speaks of untold, insurmountable grief and secrets. The curl of her fingers into fists, white-knuckled; in and out, in and out, like a reflex. It takes Lena a few moments to realise the oscellations are in time with Lena's own breathing.

The sun has risen to the horizon, splashing the horizon in pastel pinks and blues. The window is still open, and a gust of wind dances through the office, penetrating the warmth of the cocoon she's created. Without thinking she moves towards Kara, leaning over until her head rests in the reporter's lap. She can feel the tension in Kara's legs increase under her head in surprise, but she soon relaxes - as much as she can, at least.

Warmth seems to radiate from Kara's very being, and there's a certain familiar gravity in that. She's a sun among planets, and Lena is Mercury, burning alive as she spins as close as she dares.

Fingers run through Lena's hair absently, carding and untangling the strands. It's strangely intimate, and Lena feels like she should draw away; instead she leans closer.

"I got my mother arrested last night."

She's not sure why she decides to speak now; Leia's about to give Han a medal, and she's finally invested in the movie. Kara's fingers freeze in her hair, unsure. Lena takes it as a sign to continue.

"She's- the leader of Cadmus. She wanted to kill all the aliens in National City. Supergirl...she was right."

God, she was so awful to Supergirl - but the superhero didn't even seem to care. She brought her home, made sure she was warm, and apparently motivated Kara to come over with pizza. Which - wow, she hadn't fully realised what Kara said. _A mutual friend_. How the hell does Kara Danvers know Supergirl?

"I'm sure she forgives you," Kara says quietly. Was Lena thinking out loud? "You love your mother, despite all she might have done to you and other people. You're allowed to have faith in her until proven wrong."

"You sound like you're speaking from experience." Lena sits up, leaning into Kara's side instead so she can see the girl's expression.

"I thought the world of my mom." There's a bitter tone to Kara's voice, acidic and hard, which puts shivers down Lena's back; because this is Kara - sweet, innocent Kara - and she never imagined this sort of darkness under all that sunshine. "I was blinded by love, and youth, and in the end it hurt a lot of people."

"What happened?" She doesn't want to pry, but this is the first time she's seen Kara with her shields down. And Kara _understands_. She's never met someone like that.

"People died." Lena flinches. "A lot of people. My whole family, except for my cousin, too."

There's nothing Lena can say to that. Kara's eyes tell a tale of tragedy, defeated and shattered, but there's a grim, determined hardness to her, and Lena finds herself staring at her in awe. That this girl, who has seen so much and had everything taken from her, has remained so full of love and hope is a goddamn fucking miracle.

She tries to imagine how much Kara must trust her to tell her this, and her heart aches a thousand times more than before; both for this beautiful tragedy standing before her, and in the knowledge of what this conversation means to her.

"It's not your fault," Lena says, reaching for Kara's hands, catching them as they continue their perpetual tracking of Lena's breathing, entwining their fingers together. There's a sudden lightness to Kara, a vague looseness in her grip, as if she's afraid of hurting her.

"Have you ever heard the words 'the sins of the father are the sins of the son'?" Kara mutters with a mirthless humour.

"That's bullshit made up by victim blamers and people looking for an excuse to fight."

"Someone should really let the rest of the world know that."

"Yeah, they should."

Lena's never wanted to hug someone more in her life, so it feels only natural to unwind her fingers from Kara's and wrap her arms around the shaking, broken girl in front of her. Kara doesn't even hesitate to return it, clinging to Lena like a lifeline. There's an intensity in her touch, so delicate yet so desperate, like a drowning girl clutching at twigs to keep herself afloat.

There are choked whimpers echoing in the air; she doesn't know who's, and she doesn't really care.

* * *

 

When her secretary finally arrives with Lena's midday appointment, they're asleep on the couch together, the film on its fourth loop through. Kara's body is an aura of warmth surrounding them, the rhythm of her fluttering breaths a lullaby Lena never wants to forget.

She thinks she could stay here forever.

**Author's Note:**

> Come hang with/talk with/prompt me at [edelwoodsouls](https://edelwoodsouls.tumblr.com)/[karacallaghan](https://karacallaghan.tumblr.com) on tumblr, I'm always free to chat :)


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